Acein
by miss lizz
Summary: Based on the new series. This one's about Mekanek. Contains scenes of excessive violence. Please read & review!
1. knell

Acéin

Chapter One: Knell

Author: Miss Lizz

Rating: R for blood, language, and more blood.  

Disclaimer: The characters of Masters of the Universe belong to Mattel.  This story and the ideas herein are mine though.

Note: This tale contains certain themes some people may not find suitable for all ages.  Viewer discretion is advised.

Also, I will not refer to the Masters as 'masters,' I personally think this makes them sound like, I don't know, like porn stars or something so their official title will be the Defenders.

          The ringing crash of steel on steel echoed through the dense forest, sending dark clouds of birds skyward from their roosts in the trees and earthbound creatures took flight from the great din of battle.  In the gray light of pre-dawn, the fog was thick, so thick none could see more than a few feet in any direction but it did little to ease the brutality of the struggle as battle cries and blood flew through the chill air.  Outcome unknown, spirits flagging on either side, it seemed an eternity and more as the battle raged.

          Able to rely on senses other than sight, Beast Man easily darted about each of his enemies, no matter where they were and accurately land blows before they even knew he was there.  Many were the deeply bleeding claw marks he'd made.

          Utilizing one of his three eyes, Tri-Klops was not hampered in the least by the fog and so had little difficulty finding the opponent he wanted.  For an instant he frowned, seeing his adversary, the man was already injured by Beast Man's claws, large swatches of his helmet and armour ripped away, appearing staggered from the most recent blow.  Would it be honourable to face his old friend like this?  Like he truly cared now, Tri-Klops smiled wickedly as he drew his sword and ran forward.  

          It was nothing more than an opportunity, an opportunity he planned to take full advantage of.

          "Wulfric!"

          Mekanek whirled at the sound of his name and was almost too late to deflect the blow that would have easily carved open his head and chest.  As it was, the broadsword left its angry marks on his forearm and leg, sending stinging pain radiating along his nerves.  He almost fell, staggering back several feet.

          He grunted, swinging his heavy club with all the force he could, given he was still reeling from the blow to the head from Beast Man that had ripped one half of his triangular goggles off― narrowly missing his eye― and part of his helm.  Gods that had hurt.  It still hurt.

          Tri-Klops was not so injured, was in fact quite fresh to the fight, giving him a distinct advantage over Mekanek.

          He met with other swings of the blade but lay in several of his own as the two warriors traded crushing blows.  His spirits were lifting by margins at the possible outcome when something large and growling landed with a thud on the ground directly behind him and before he could move, that something slammed what felt like a battering ram into the back of his head.  Mekanek stumbled forward, trying to ignore the loud, painful ringing in his ears and catch up to his lost balance.

          Some sort of abrupt pressure tore into his middle ribcage, a few inches below his right pectoral muscle, but he didn't at first think anything about it because there was no pain but when he noticed Tri-Klops' smiling visage just inches from his, Mekanek began to wonder what the other was smiling so triumphantly about and tried to move.

          Feeling strangely leaden, his body sluggishly and only barely responding to his commands, th taller warrior pushed himself away from his one-time friend causing the other man to shift footing in order to remain standing.  Mekanek staggered backwards, noting vaguely that he'd dropped his club somewhere.  That wouldn't do at all.  How was he to defend himself against― had Tri-Klops dropped his weapon as well?

          No, his hands were still clasped on the hilt in an easy grip.  He smiled more broadly, displaying even, white teeth, and suddenly Mekanek felt as well as heard the loud snap of a metal blade.  He immediately felt something warm wash down his chest as well.

          Sensation came crashing back down on him like a dam bursting its barriers and the hero looked down at this chest where that strange pressure had become a blinding pain.  He tried to speak, to make some sound, to ask '_why_' but all he managed were wet, choked, retching sounds as more of that warm fluid dribbled out of his mouth and nose.  _Oh gods…_

          There was a supreme look of shock on the younger man's face as he staggered weakly back, dark red blood welling in great gouts from the blade's entry point.  Tri-Klops watched this rather dispassionately, still holding his broken sword.  He watched as more blood poured out of his mouth and nose when he made a gargled choking sound― looking as if he had no idea why he was bleeding― and backed into the hulking form of Beast Man.

          Beast Man grinned nastily and waited until the puzzled hero turned to look before sending him into the nearby trees with open-handed strikes to the head and chest.  The audible snap of bone and crack of armour made Tri-Klops unconsciously winced.

          "He was almost too easy."  The large, shaggy man said with a bark of laughter.

          _It **was** rather easy_, thought Tri-Klops darkly.  While Wulfric had never been the greatest warrior the Defenders possessed and, true, reconnaissance work could have softened him up a bit, it should not have been this easy a task to beat him.  A trick mayhap?

          Gazing through the dense tangles of ivy and above ground roots, he saw the very still, crumpled body of his most hated foe lying in the foggy shadows amid an ever-growing pool of darkly glistening liquid that could only be blood.  _Damn, he's still alive_, thought the triple-eyed warrior, stepping carefully forward and kneeling beside the younger man.  Taking hold of his helmet and giving a small tug, the broken red helm came into his possession.

          It would make a fitting souvenir…

          A heavy thump alerted him that Beast Man had also crouched down.  As he watched, the shaggy, red-haired giant gripped Wulfric's splintered, bloody breastplate, giving it a forceful pull that tore it off easily.  He then held up the battered red metal to inspect it, looking very much like a jeweler inspecting a fine diamond.

          "Trophy hunting?"

          Beast Man grins toothily, displaying ragged, sharp fangs, "Yeah.  Been a good day so far.  I see you got one too."

          The distant sound of a screamed 'retreat' drew their attentions and a sigh from Tri-Klops.  It never failed.  He spared one last sickened look down at Mekanek's dying body and sneered.  The two dark warriors stood and vanished off into the dense fog.

          At least _he_ wasn't going away empty-handed.  Bruised and sore and lacking a sword but victorious nonetheless.  He had to smile at that.

End

I'm cruel, aren't I?  Poor Mekanek.  Yes, this tale will focus mainly on him (that's a first in history, isn't it?  If anyone knows please tell me) with a small bit for Tri-Klops and some of the others.  

The names, family histories, atlas, and such are based on my histories for the characters from _Begoud_, which is still being written and goes into the other characters not quite so much as this one will.

Please tell me what you think of this.  Send many reviews (no flames if possible, they cause me to become very distraught).  Thank you for taking the time to read this.


	2. flashbacks and injuries

Acéin 

Chapter Two: Fear

Rating: R for the same from last chapter

Disclaimer: The characters themselves are not mine, most of them anyway.

          It was a horrible battle.  It was the worst battle yet in a depressingly long history of battle.  It was finally over.  Thank the gods.

          Huddling close together in order to see each other in the thick, grayish-white mist, the barely victorious heroes were thanking every deity, fate, and elder they could think of that He-Man had shown up when he had.  If not, they could even now be defeated and lying dead in a heap as their enemies ran rampant upon the world.  It was a terrible thought to have; one they collectively pushed from their mind, instead waiting for the rest of their comrades to find them.

          In all, their injuries were not as severe as it could have been but far more severe than normal thanks to the thick fog and deep shadows of the Evergreen Forest that had proven the perfect environment for their foes to lay an ambush.

          "Is everyone alright?  Is everyone here?"  Man-At-Arms strode into the slight clearing with Adam trailing along right behind him.  The gruff warrior squinted through the fog, "Who're we missing?"  There were not enough people to make up their numbers.  He began going by headcount and body shape to find out who was who when they began to answer.  

          Teela and Mekanek were not yet with them.  It sent alarm bells sounding in his head as his parental instincts took over for his daughter.  Though he knew either of them could be wandering in the fog, he also knew they could be injured.  

          "Where're Teela… and Mekanek?"

          "I'm here."  Teela limped into view as a dark gray silhouette before slowly solidifying.  She was favoring her right leg, a long, jagged line snaking angrily down it made walking painful but far from impossible.  

          That only left Mekanek missing.  If he was in the vicinity, he could easily call out to them and if he were out of shouting range, he would have contacted them with his communicator.  Neither had happened and after several moments of receiving nothing but ominous dead air from his comm. unit, Man-At-Arms ordered the rest of the Defenders into teams to search the surrounding forest in a radiating pattern.  Despite her protests that she could walk on her own and trying to join the search he carried his headstrong daughter to their waiting vehicles and set her down in one with strict orders not to move.

          It was Adam and Ram-Man who found him after over ten minutes of searching through thick fog and huge trees with upstanding roots, nearly tripping over his still form in the mist.  Unsure of whether it was safe to move him and not wanting to kill him if it wasn't, they called to the other teams to let everyone know he was found.  

          When everyone was gathered, they knew not what to do and could only look down at him in varying degrees of shock, despair, and even nausea at the sight of so much blood.  The silvery bit of shattered blade jutting out amid the dark blue of his tunic drew their gazes again and again in a morbid fascination.  His unprotected face was bruised, bloodied, torn, and swelling in places from blows by someone hugely powerful.  

          None of them knew what to do for him.  They were helpless.

          Stratos was one of the first to snap to his senses enough to move and wordlessly kneel next to the younger man he had known for decades and considered nearly a son, slicing through the thick leather of the torn blue tunic with a dagger to peel it carefully away and view the wound.  He didn't know why he was doing this; it just seemed like something that should be done.  Wasn't it what should be done when someone was wounded, to view the wound and assess the damage?

          He sucked in a sharp breath at the grizzly sight, most of the chest he was looking at was already turning an ugly dark purple― black in some places― where something powerful had hit and broke most of his ribs, many of which were visible in their breakage.  And that sword… the blade was shoved in at a sharp angle.  It was horrible.  Was the lad even still alive after this?

          Man-E-Faces' scanned Mekanek's body and announced that he was indeed still alive, barely, and that he was bleeding to death as well as slowly drowning as his lungs struggled with ever increasing difficulty to pull in air.

          Drawing a shuddering breath, Stratos closed the tunic as best he dared― not wanting to look at such destruction anymore and knowing no one else did either― and looked up at Man-At-Arms.  "Duncan, we must risk moving him…"

          "But… couldn't he die if we try it?"  Adam asked slowly. 

          He sighed and nodded.  "But he will for certain if we don't."

          Duncan nodded and looked to Ram-Man, who started uneasily at the task of lifting his injured friend.  After some hesitation, the large man scooped Mekanek as gently as he could into his arms and carried the badly bleeding man to their vehicles.  

          Upon seeing them approach, Teela stood stiffly to look worriedly over their solemn ranks, her eyes widening hugely when she caught sight of whom Ram-Man was carrying and even more when she saw what shape he was in.

          Her father jumped into the flyer with her, "Can you keep yourself and him steady?"  She could only nod silently and he turned back to Ram-Man on the ground.  "Pass him up."

          Done slowly so as not to jar already broken ribs and shift him too much, it took some minutes before they got him in and lying down as flat as possible.  They left then, speeding towards the palace as quickly as the flyers could travel.  Right after take-off, Teela slowly moved until his head could rest in her lap, taking a cloth out of a first aid kit she found in a side compartment and wetting it from a canteen to clean the worst of the blood off his battered face, leaving his chest alone for fear of causing him further pain or worse injury.

          _He looks so much smaller without his chest-plate.  Hmm, smaller may be the wrong word._

          Once the blood was gone, she sat back to study his face.  Many thin, bleeding lines snaked their way up his face from what were undoubtedly Beast Man's razor sharp claws, stopping near where his goggles used to sit and a black eye that was quickly swelling.  He would have been deemed a handsome man without these injuries, his face still holding its boyishness and his raven's black hair not showing a hint of graying, though at the moment it was damp with sweat and blood and roughly tousled, revealing the gentle, elfin points of his ears.  

          His helmet was gone now, she knew not where, and she almost did not recognize him.  Even without the bruises, she would have been hard pressed to know him from a stranger.  She had only seen him without his helm one other time in her memory when she was five years old.

          Mekanek was injured then too.  Teela could not remember exactly how he had been injured, only that it had been initially hidden from everyone until it had made him very ill.

          It had been unseasonably warm that spring with great downpours of rain frequently occurring, forcing she and Adam to stay indoors more than their young selves could tolerate and making them more hyperactive than usual at that age.  They had already driven Queen Marlena to distraction and she sent them off in search of a new playmate.

          They had always sought out either Mekanek or Ram-Man as playmates because, of all the adults, the two of them were usually quite happy to spend time with them and they were fun.  That day, Ram-Man had not been at the palace but their other friend was.  It seemed to take forever to find him and when they did, it was to find him deep into a 'discussion' with King Randor and Stratos so they spied on them through a crack in a side door.

          After so many years, she could not really remember what the argument was about or even what exactly was said but there had been yelling on all sides, swearing, and out of the blue, Mekanek had hauled off and punched Stratos in the jaw before storming out of the room, ignoring Randor's orders to come back and explain himself.

          Pulling Adam along, Teela had raced through several side corridors to catch up with their friend.  She was worried and bursting with curiosity about his behavior and had planned to ask him about it.

          He had been leaning heavily against the wall when they finally ran up on him, breathing hard in great, rasping heaves, and had wrapped his arms around his chest.  Adam had rocketed off to get his father while she had run up to Mekanek and grabbed his belt, the highest she could reach, and tried to get his attention.

          Instead of looking at her, he collapsed heavily into a sitting position with his back braced against the wall.  He finally looked at her after jerkily removing his helm, revealing a set of startling violet eyes set in a feverishly pale face.  Whatever she had intended to ask him was forgotten as he dropped into unconsciousness and slumped farther down the wall.  But a five year old knew little of unconsciousness, she had been panic struck that he had died and began to shake his shoulder while calling his name. 

          He'd been so still then, as still as now.

          With a shake of her head, she came back to the present, annoyed what she could drift down memory lane when a friend was clinging to life by the proverbial thread.  She looked down at him again and lifted the damp cloth away from his swollen eye where she had hoped to reduce anymore swelling.  It hadn't worked; he wouldn't be able to open his left eye for days.

          The palace was in sight on the horizon when she glanced up and a wave of relief washed over her at the sight.  Never had she been so gladdened to see its whitewashed stone walls.

          "How's he doing?" Her father asked, glancing back to her.

          "…I'm not sure."

          He grunted softly to himself.  "What about you?  How are you holding up?"

          Teela started slightly, she'd not thought of her leg at all this trip but now that she did, she realized that it hurt but not terribly, not as badly as it looked.  The gash was not even that deep.  "I'll be fine, Father.  Was anyone else injured?"

          "Just cuts and bruises for the most part, though none so bad as― we're here."  He said suddenly and she felt the slight bump of landing.  Duncan stood and began motioning to someone beyond her peripheral vision and suddenly Mekanek and she were swamped on all sides by healers and their helpers.

          What transpired then were several hours of hurried activity concerning the Defenders by several healers and even more assistants as wounds were assessed and dressed, stitches were sewn, and the wait for any news from the surgery room in the back was impatiently began.  Randor came down to speak with them all and wait with them as long as duty allowed and, much to Adam's embarrassment, Marlena visited them as well, clucking over him and asking after everyone's injuries before both of the royal couple had to leave for other duties.

          The sight of so many burly warriors pacing or brooding in the too-small waiting area made most of the passing medical staff nervous to the point where they began to avoid the whole area if at all possible.  

          It was the waiting and the ensuing tension that set off sparks of contention after five hours of no news, sending all the wrong signals to already frayed nerves that clamoured for action against the denizens of Snake Mountain that caused not tempers but despair to escalate.  Though anger was another prevalent emotion in the cramped area.  They were all worried to the point that there was even some talk of invading the operating room to find out what was going on and there was the depressing thought that the surgeons were losing the battle.  Each of them was following similar lines of thought and feelings.

          When an exhausted surgeon walked out of the room still in his blood stained uniform, he was overwhelmed by seven warriors who suddenly leapt up and began questioning him.

          "How is he?"

          The doctor took a hesitant step back to breathe and adjusted his glasses.  "We can't tell for sure so soon after surgery but he did survive five hours of it and the bone resetting, that in itself is a good sign but all is still uncertain.  The best we can do now is monitor him for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours for signs of infection and to keep him completely immobile."

          Adam squeezed his way to the forefront.  "Can we see him now?"

          "Not just yet, your highness.  He's being moved to a room upstairs now but in… an hour you may visit."

          The warriors left grumbling at this information, leaving Man-At-Arms and Stratos with the much smaller man.

          "How bad?" The human of the two asked.

          The doctor sighed and took his glasses off before looking up at them.  "Very.  The blade punctured his lung, carving through his fourth and fifth ribs in the process but thankfully did not run completely through him and did not hit his heart.  But it only missed his heart by centimeters though and his entire thoracic area has received massive blunt force trauma resulting in nearly every rib in his body to become fractured in some way and in internal hemorrhaging that has been halted but we are still unsure as to how much damage it could have caused."  The man paused for a moment.  "He has various other lesions over his body, none as severe or as life-threatening as his chest but are highly visible and rather severe looking but will heal entirely as will his facial trauma which I'm sure you all saw.  He has suffered a broken jaw and nose but again they should heal nicely without visible damage… He's a very lucky man to have lived at all.  I believe he will pull through when all is said and done."

          Stratos crossed his arms, "And knowing that boy, he'll attempt to go back on duty as soon as he wakes up…"

          This elicited a small chuckle of agreement from Man-At-Arms and a look of alarm from the surgeon.

          "Is this true?" The two men nodded.  "He can't.  He must remain as still as possible while his injuries heal.  If he moves too soon or re-injures himself while doing so, it could kill him―"

          "No need to fear, Doctor, we'll all make certain he stays put," Duncan reassured the man as the two warriors turned and left to follow the others.

End

Another chapter bites the dust.  This one was even twice as long as the first, wow.  Did anyone enjoy it?  Will anyone review?  I hope so to both.

Later.


	3. the mountain

Acéin

Chapter 3: Mountain

Rating: Pg-13 technically for language and other such stuff.

Disclaimer: Mattel owns the license; I'm just playing with the characters and mentally traumatizing them.

          Ignoring the thundering bellows of an enraged Skeletor was a simple, now routine, matter that Tri-Klops had mastered long ago in order to save his own sanity.  He merely had to quake in the right pauses and look attentive when he was really bored with it all.  It actually was not that difficult a task as the inventor was rarely noticed by his temperamental boss.  Instead of listening to the powerful mage, the quiet warrior listened to the dull thundering rain pounding into the dark volcanic soil outside, cooling the earth, sending life-giving water to the dry ground.  The rains were coming early this season; cold would soon follow.

          He had a feeling it would be a frigid year indeed.  Good.  It had been unbearably hot this last summer, causing the crops to not do well at all and causing tempers to flare higher than the stifling temperatures.  Thank the gods autumn had finally come.

          Some sense of sanity and calm would have a chance to reassert themselves.  As much as such things could assert their hold over this lot.  Attacks could be better planned when everyone was holed up near a hearth and the snows seemed to blanket everything in creation.  This part of Emania could actually be considered beautiful mantled in pure white.

          Tri-Klops preferred the colder climes of autumn and winter to the heat of summer.  It was far less hectic, far more enjoyable; he could begin and even finish new projects or even spend the day sleeping if he so chose.  It reminded him of his childhood home near the township of Alfheim near the southernmost boundary of the North Polar Cap.  Often his thoughts turned to his parents and his younger sister and how they could be faring after all these years.

          But today he was too pleased with his victory over Wulfric to think of winter snows and familial bonds severed long ago.  Looking down at the battered, bloody helm clasped under his arm, he couldn't help but smile triumphantly.

          It felt good to be the victor for once instead of having that runt and the other Defenders defeat them at every turn.  Being able to collect a trophy in the process wasn't too bad either.  The three-eyed warrior figured it was the least the whelp deserved after what he'd done―

          "Tri-Klops!" The short bark pulled his attention sharply back to the present.  "Care to let the rest of us in on what you're grinning so for?"

          _Damn_.  He should have known better than to let his mind wander so far and completely forget that he was supposed to be listening to Skeletor's ranting.  Such daydreaming could get him killed or maimed or something just as bad.  He inwardly shuddered as the memory of having to care for some of Beast Man's nastier pets and having to give Panthor a bath flashed through his mind.

          "Um…" What was he supposed to say to save his hide?  "No…er, I mean… it's a personal triumph, I doubt you find it interesting…" _Gods, I hope that works._

          The evil overlord grunted slightly, "We all have to have something to be proud of… Very well.  You are all dismissed but I expect better next time."  They began to file out, Tri-Klops sheepishly keeping his head bowed.  "A word, Evil-Lyn."

          He stole a glance back toward the throne-room to see both his lord and the woman he thought of as nearly a sister disappear down another corridor.  It made him smirk, knowing full well that very few actual words would pass between the two, having been that way as long as he had known them.  Too bad neither would or could admit their obvious feelings for one another.

          Retreating to his chambers/workshop, Tri-Klops placed his prize on a shelf and selected a well-read book that had always taken his mind from the world's travails, planning on spending the rest of the day holed up here to read and work as it was obvious nothing more would be done today with his leader not presently thinking of world domination.  He never meant to fall asleep in his chair.

          Awakening with a startled jerk when he felt a sandpaper-rough tongue graze the back of his hand, the still half-asleep man blearily sat up and looked into the green, slit-pupil eyes of Panthor as the feline gazed at him imploringly.

          "What?"

          Seemingly in answer, the large, purple cat butted his huge head against Tri-Klops' palm.  The warrior scratched him behind the ears thinking that was what he wanted.  Panthor then turned and padded out of the room only to return moments later and butted his hand again before leaving once more.

          He wanted Tri-Klops to follow him.

          With a sigh of defeat, the man pushed himself up from the chair he'd been napping in and followed the overlarge pet through stone corridors to the rather large kitchens where Panthor sat purposefully beside his food bowl.

          "This is what you dragged me down here for?  You're hungry?"

          In response, Panthor pushed his bowl with a paw and began to mewl plaintively, a rather disturbing sound when magnified to a basso rumble.  With another sigh, he began the search for wherever and whatever it was that Skeletor fed his purple tabby. 

End chapter 4.

This was just a short piece showing what Tri-Klops may or may not do and think when not fighting.

Emania- a Celtic word meaning 'land of the moon' or the place where the dead went, I use it as a place name for the Dark Continent.  I thought it was rather fitting.

Alfheim- Tri-Klops' hometown in the extreme north.  I'm not sure if he was ever given one on any incarnation of the show.

If there are any other questions concerning anything, I'll try to answer in the next chapters but you'll have to review first.  Please review, I'm begging you.


	4. hurt

Acéin 

Chapter 4: Hurt

Rating: R

Disclaimer: The characters of _Masters of the Universe_ are property of Mattel.

            Everything hurt.  No, 'hurt' had not a strong enough meaning for what he felt.  This was pain on a level he had not felt in years, as close to agony as he could get without going over its edge.  It felt like his entire body had been torn open.  He could not even move had he wanted to risk the further explosion of pain, his body felt too heavy and beaten to fight gravity.

            He could not speak or make any sound whatsoever, his mouth feeling drier than desert sand, making his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth and leaving his throat painfully raw and closed feeling.  It made his breathing more difficult than it was already.  Not that it could have been any easier to breathe with his chest feeling so heavy and his very lungs feeling squeezed as if by two enormous hands.  Gods, he couldn't breathe!  He couldn't move.  He couldn't feel anything but pain racing along his nerves.

            But he could hear still and had been hearing the gentle buzz of voices all around him since he first stirred into a hazy form of consciousness, though at first he made nothing of them except the hard to focus on droning that marked there was anyone near him.  When the voices solidified into understandable words, it happened very slowly, phasing in and out of reality and hearing.  It was some of the other Defenders, talking in low voices that belied the heat of their words, the anger and rage making itself known plainly in their tense growls though the reasons for this anger varied with the different conversations.

            There were at least three small groups gathered around him, but he was having trouble focusing enough to identify which ones were talking for certain.  Someone with a very deep voice, perhaps Stratos or Duncan, were discussing the battle, another was declaring that Snake Mountain should be stormed and besieged once and for all, he had no idea who was saying that.  Still another person, a woman that could possibly be Teela, was simply arguing with someone, more than likely Adam.

            He was trying to gather enough strength to open his eyes when something cold and moist suddenly touched his arm, startling him out of his concentration.  What was that?

            It left for a moment only to be replaced by warm fur that brushed over his hand, rough whiskers grazing his skin as that something snuffled rather loudly.  The cold thing brushed against him again, blowing hot air over his fingers this time.  It was a nose.  Cringer.  That made sense if Adam was here, the furry coward was always in the same area as the teenager.

            The pain exploded several times higher than before and remained an inferno, choking off his thoughts of why the big tiger was nosing around him in a crimson miasma that swallowed him abruptly and whole as it became nigh impossible to breath.  It felt like the two hands squeezing his lungs had been replaced by a mountain range and was slowly crushing him, forcing the ability to breathe from his power.  His heart was going to pound out of his chest at any moment; it laboured so hard to pump oxygen-rich blood through his body it couldn't do anything else.  And his skull felt like it was being squeezed like an overripe melon and would soon burst while the rest of his body was either growing numb or bright white in sheer, overpowering agony.

            Gods he hurt.  He wanted to scream.  He wanted the pain to stop by any means necessary.  He wanted to lose consciousness if it would help.  At this point, he even wanted to die, wishing he could force the words out that he was hurting, that he could tell the others, even if he could do no more than moan but his throat felt sealed shut.  

            There were six in the room with him, standing near the bed and looking down at his still form with saddened expressions when a fastly intermittent, quiet droning began to permeate the air, at first going unnoticed.  The conversations continued for some time, the speakers unable to hear the machine.  

            Anger laced their conversations, anger and perplexity ruled their minds and sadness their hearts.  Why had Mekanek been seemingly targeted out from the rest of them?  Why was he attacked with so much brutality and so little remorse while the rest of the Defenders escaped with little more than cuts and bruises?  What sort of grudge did Tri-Klops have against him?

            "Is that machine supposed to be making that noise?" Adam asked Teela suddenly when the beeping began to permeate the air, putting a blanket on the various conversations.  He could not tell from which machine the noise was coming from but he could only assume it was not a good thing to hear.

            A healer and two assistants rushed in at roughly that moment, the assistants hurrying everyone out while the healer studied the readouts of the many machines.  Just as the door was pushed closed in their faces, the blonde prince saw the doctor inject something from a large syringe into Mekanek's arm.  He also saw Cringer's tail disappear under the bed.

            _Oh no…_ he had forgotten all about his pet, forgotten that he was in the room with the rest of them.  Maybe no one will notice him; Adam did not really want to clean out the stables again.  But this could turn very badly if Cringer did something that hurt Mekanek or worse.

            "What's up, Adam?" Teela asked quietly, "Is something wrong?"

            He gulped and turned to face her, his ice blue eyes wide and concerned as he looked at the fiery haired girl that was nearly his sister, "Cringer's still in there," he whispered harshly.  Wincing at the way her emerald eyes widened and the shocked expression that crossed her face, he half expected her to hit him with her staff right there in the corridor with their fathers and two other Defenders looking on.

            "What?" Teela whispered so harshly she squeaked.  "You let your cat into that room?  Why in the world was Cringer in there anyway?"

            "There's no rule that friends can't visit.  Cringer's a friend, if it wasn't for Mekanek, I probably wouldn't even have him.  Besides, he's clean, I bathed him just after the battle…" Adam trailed off when he happened to glance past Teela and found that his father and her own were glowering at them in that angry way he knew meant that they had heard everything or just enough and weren't pleased.

            This wasn't fair, why was the lad beaten as he was?  _He's only a boy_, his heart kept repeating though his mind knew with a certainty that Mekanek was a grown man of thirty-four.  It had been a long time since that day a sixteen year old Stratos had found a swaddled infant on the ocean cliffs outside the Tylwyth Teg city of Knockaine.  He had taken him then to protect him and had promised himself to do his utmost to keep that baby protected.

            _I've failed too many times in that regard.  He's been let down too many times…_

            Stratos sat heavily on a bench in the corridor with his forearms resting on his knees as he stared down at his bare feet, his grey eyes occasionally watering and running over.  His tears had already carved a path down his lined cheeks in the day since the battle.  This was his fault; somehow he knew it was, his long ago promise broken yet again.

            Dimly the older man heard the children whispering urgently to each other but paid them little heed.  The door had opened and one of the assistants rushed out before any of them could stop and ask her what was going on.  It sent a fresh wave of worry and despair coursing through his veins as she disappeared around a corner, her hard-soled shoes tapping harshly on the stone floors.

            Something was wrong… there had to be something wrong.  What else was there to explain it?  Had Mekanek become worse?  Oh gods, that was it, it had to be.  He was getting worse.

            For several moments after her departure, no sound was uttered by the warriors gathered, the hallway silent as a crypt.  This was wrong.  They should not be waiting out here, with no knowledge, while a friend, the closest thing he had to a son, could be lying alone in a room with Death hovering over him.  No one should have to die alone; Wulfric would want his friends, his family, with him if it came to that.

            The old warrior gazed around at the others, from the chastened worry on Adam and Teela's faces to the stiff upper lip of the agitated Randor, Duncan, and Ram Man.  These people were Wulfric's family, the only family the boy had ever truly known through his harsh young life.  

            The bench shifted as someone sat down beside him, from the dark green of the cuisse and the brown leather of the cross-gartered hide boot that came into his vision plane he could assume it was Duncan.  Assume he did because he never looked up again to confirm it.

            A moment passed in silence before the tactician spoke.  "Are you going to be alright?"

            Stratos snorted.  "That's something you should be asking Wulfric, not me…" He trailed into silence for several seconds, his mind defeated and whirling, "I should have looked after him better… when I found that boy, I promised I would protect him and I have yet to get that part right."  He sighed in defeat of his shortcomings and continued staring at his feet so that he missed the mystified look Duncan shot him.

            "What?  What do you mean, you found him?"

            He looked at the young man out of the corner of his eye― _young?  When had forty-six become young to me?  _Arching a grey brow, the Avian king sighed again and leaned back, closing his eyes and resting his head against the cool stone wall.

            "Exactly the way it sounds, I found him newly born on freezing cliffs over the Ocean of Gnarl." Daring a glance at the man, he was surprised at the look of befuddlement on his face, "you never knew?"

            From the way his dark eyebrows were trying to reach his hairline, Stratos could only assume he had not.  Strange, but he presumed that the older Defenders would know something of Wulfric's life before them as they had known him for nearly twenty-five years.  Apparently he was wrong.

            "I… knew he was an orphan, not that―" He trailed off and snapped his gaze to the door across from them.  Stratos followed and leaned forward to stand quickly as it opened and the small, nervous healer crept out, firmly closing the door behind him.  

            As one, the Defenders converged on the old man who backed up and widened his brown eyes at the sudden closing in of four larger than normal warriors and two more normal-sized teenagers.   For a moment, Stratos was afraid he was going to faint from fear.  Perhaps they should back away from him and give him room to breathe.

            "You're with the patient, yes?"  He spoke quickly, his nervousness making itself very known.

            King Randor nodded and the healer, perhaps just noticing the royal presence, bowed low.  "Yes.  How is he?"

            "Stabilized, but I'm afraid he can't be allowed visitors until tomorrow at the earliest and from then on, the number will be limited."

            He didn't like this; it made his stomach flip over in dread.  "What happened?" He asked quietly.

            The healer hesitated for a moment, "well… he was experiencing difficulty in breathing and the painkillers given to him had worn off, waking him up.  He's not going to feel very well when he next wakes up but he should be able to breathe.  It's all we know for certain at the moment but a nurse is stationed inside to more closely monitor his position.  If there are any changes whatsoever, you'll all be the first to know."

            "Thank you," the king murmured as the healer left them when a buzzing began to sound from his robes.  

            "What are we supposed to do now?" Adam asked in the silence that followed.

            Randor sighed, "Prepare ourselves for whatever Skeletor and his forces may do next, there's not much we _can_ do."

            "That's it?" The young man nearly yelled in his indignant anger. "Why aren't we doing anything more?  I mean... Mekanek was nearly killed by those creeps―" 

            "And the rest of you were injured," the Ard-Righ interrupted with a sigh, "Son, as much as I share your sentiments, to attack Snake Mountain now would by foolhardy and would only lead to more casualties as well as a stronger risk that someone could lose their life.  Would you want that on your conscious?  Revenge is seldom a good reason to run into a war, Adam."

            The prince looked down at the ground, his face flushed in anger.  Stratos knew the look well, the boy still wanted to seek vengeance for the injuries but he would do as his father said.  It was amazing how alike father and son truly were.

            _Though Randor at his age would have gone ahead with the attack, consequences be damned.  Thank the gods he has so much of his mother in him…_

            As the group began walking down the corridor, the Avian king spared one last glance at the closed door.  He prayed the boy would be all right soon.

            "Oh, and Adam?" Randor's words jerked him out of his thoughts, "Get Cringer out of there."

End chapter 4.

Glossary of terms:

1. Tylwyth Teg: it means, literally, 'the fair family' though I am using it as a race name for Mekanek's kind.  They are an elfin race from the northern continent of Eternia.  More on them in later chapters.

2. Knockaine: the capitol city of the Tylwyth Teg, located on the coast of the Ocean of Gnarl, in the foothills of the Mystic Mountains.

3. Ard-Righ: literally, 'high king.' A title of power.


	5. Memory

Acéin

Chapter 5: Memory

Rating: R for violence and scenes that may be deemed disturbing by some readers.

Disclaimer: Only those characters that have never been seen before are mine, all others are properties of Mattel and Mike Young Productions.

I am so sorry this has taken so long to come.  Things had reached a block but seem a mite better at the moment.

          Dark greens and midnight browns blurred past his vision, his breath puffed out in great white clouds in the frigid air, making his lungs burn and his sides ache.  As much as a child of nine could, he ignored the pain and kept running, as fast as he could, as far as he could.  Knowing that if he slowed, that if Fand and Medraut found him, they would surely kill him.  If they found him and caught him, he knew his foster parents would beat him, to the death this time instead of leaving him with only bruises and cuts.  He would rather die free in the cold than return to them.

          If he could just reach the Mystic Mountains, if he could make it Avion, he would be safe and out of their foul hands but he had to reach that far first.

          They were aware of his absence by now surely, without doubt; he had to keep his ears open for anyone following but it was so difficult with the pounding rush of blood in his head and his laboured breathing seeming to encompass the whole of his senses.

          He hurt.  Inside and out, body and mind and soul, he hurt, he ached.  He was tired of always hurting, of being hit, of always having to be hungry and tired and cold.  He wanted safety. 

          When something struck his shin and sent him crashing to the hard, frozen ground― a tree root mayhap― his head hit a stone and blackness descended over the world.  Only to be finding himself lying cold and damp on the snow covered ground with his arms bound tight enough to cut off the circulation.  If his circulation could remain in such freezing conditions as these.  His fingers were numb and aching when he flexed them.

          Trying to move, trying to pick himself up, he found he could not, the bonds too thorough and tight in their application.  He recognized the tethering, and the cottage and forge just twenty yards away.  Fear and resignation flared in his young heart and mind.  They had him.  Fand and Medraut had found him.  He was going to die.

          From the wooden door to the forge, his burly foster father, Medraut, calmly walked, uncoiling a long whip of black that even at nine years of age, he knew well.  He was to be whipped.  As those first large flakes of snow fell from the grey heavens, the whip was brought down.

          Lurching into a sitting position, a sharp, startled gasp wrenched from his chest, Mekanek awoke with a sudden violent jerk and brought a shaking hand to his eyes.  His breathing was harsh, his body drenched in sweat, the nightmare memory still assailing his mind.  Gods that had been so real, too real, it was as if he was living that day again.  Even his back stung slightly from the remembered crack of the whip that long ago day.

          In the present, it was his chest that hurt and for a moment, he focused on that very real pain to take his mind from his childhood and will his trembling body to calm down.  It was not an easy task even had he not been in pain.  Why could he not forget his past?  Why did it have to visit him in his dreams when before they were a safe haven?

          His black hair was damp with sweat when he ran his still shaking hands through the unruly mass and was surprised when even that movement hurt.  What happened to him?  There was a battle was there not?

          Yes there was, against Skeletor and his henchmen in the Evergreen Forest.  How much time had passed since then?  He had little to no memory of the end of the battle or anything after that.  It was all fog and agony.  Why did he hurt so much?

          Sucking in deep breaths― quickly stopping that when the pain flared to the unbearable― he took his hand away from his face and looked around for the first time at the darkened room where he lay in.  Where was he?  It was dark, the drapes that had been drawn completely made it impossible to tell what time of day it was, the shadows distorting what might be a familiar room.  Actually it was a very familiar room.

          This was not a hospital room; in fact, it looked like his bedchamber.  Why wasn't he in the hospital? 

          He had no way of knowing the answer to that, all he knew was that he was hurting, hurting so badly now he wanted to cry.  The pain he had focused on earlier was growing worse until it was all he could focus on.  Pain had such a horrible way of clearing the mind.

          After some time, feeling like an eternity with agony seeping into his mind, the pain ebbed for a moment, he knew not for how long the respite would last.  Mekanek closed his eyes and breathed thanks to the gods and goddesses.

          Why was it so dark in here?  The drapes should not block that much light, if it happened to be daylight out. 

          Moving before he fully thought out his actions, Mekanek placed first one then the other foot on the floor, finding a thick rug beneath his bare feet he did not remember owning, and stood.  Bad idea.  Instant regret flooded his newly returned consciousness as dizziness threatened to take it and brought him back down to a sitting position with a blanket-muffled thump, a hand holding his head as his vision swam sickeningly.

          _Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid._

_          Oooww.  Shoulda tried that a bit slower,_ he thought with a groan.  On his next attempt, he followed his advice and stood again very slowly, a deep moan and feeling of weakness breaking from his clenched jaw and washing over his battered body.  But he did manage to stay upright even though he swayed unsteadily as a greater bout of dizziness swept him. 

          It took more out of him than he would have believed, or admitted to himself or anyone, to walk the short distance to the window.  Now he was truly as weak as everyone believed and could not hide it.  Of what use to the Defender's cause was he like this?  Far less than he ever was before, that is what.  Something was to be done about that as soon as possible, he must get back to fighting form as quickly as possible, he had to work harder than ever to make up for this and whatever time he had wasted in unconsciousness.

          Just as he was going to draw back the curtain, his trembling hand stopped short as he heard voices.  An even greater pause was given him when he thought he heard his name mentioned.  What had he done now?

          "Have you told him any of this?" Duncan's voice was easily recognizable as was the burr of the response.

          "Not yet.  The time's never seemed right…"

          Man-At-Arms and Stratos' voices faded from hearing as they passed his window and out of range.  Despite the fact that it was probably not overly important or simply none of his business, Mekanek found himself curious as to what they were talking about and what he had not been told. 

          _Probably doesn't matter_, he thought while pushing the drapes― they seemed heavier and thicker than they should be― aside to look out.  He may have been mildly curious as to what time of day it was but he wanted fresh air more since he was not a man who favoured staying indoors for extended periods of time. 

          He found himself nearly blinded by the setting sun as it dipped below the horizon, painting the fields and forests in molten gold and midnight black and turning the Partholon River into a glittering trail of diamonds.  He loved this view.  It never ceased to calm and ensnare him whatever time of day it was, but today he could not stand long enough to enjoy it.  He had to sit down before he collapsed, even now his legs were beginning to buckle and his entire body was shaking as if from exhaustion. 

          How long would he be like this?  What good was he to the team if he could barely stand?

          Something had to be done; he needed to work harder than ever before to make up for his failures and whatever time he had lost, especially after his showing at the last battle.  He needed to get back to fighting form as quickly as he could.

          Maybe he _was_ useless now; he certainly had been in the battle.  He was so sick of being useless to everyone.  He needed to try harder.

          The sound of his bedroom door clicking open and quietly creaking on its hinges drew his attention from his increasingly depressive thoughts to the blonde boy and red-haired girl framed in the doorway.  They smiled widely upon seeing him up and about.

          "Hey, Mek, you're awake!"  Adam's wide smile broadened into a grin as he and Teela walked into the dimly lit room.  "How're you feeling?"

          He tried to smile but the grimace of pain that instead spread across his pale features wiped the teenagers' faces of all emotions save concern.  The prince backed up a step and turned to his friend.

          "I'll go get the healer," he said quietly but not so quietly that Mekanek did not hear.

          "No, no, there's no need to bother them.  I'm fine, it was just a twinge," he lied to belay their fears.  He could deal with the pain now that it was starting to fade since he was sitting and resting.  Besides that, he did not want to frighten the children or anyone else. 

          Adam relaxed visibly though Teela looked far less convinced.  "You don't look very fine, are you sure you're okay?  You're awfully pale.  And shouldn't you be lying down?  It's only been a sennight since―"

          "A sennight?" He asked incredulously before smirking ruefully, "Gods, no wonder I'm so weak…"

          A new voice entered the room then, "And I'm sure a chest full of broken ribs, getting run through with a sword, multiple concussions, and Elders know what else, have nothing whatsoever to do with it."  Queen Marlena said from the doorway.  She wore a gently teasing smile as if he was a younger brother but it did nothing to fool him as to her seriousness and worry.  "Teela is correct, you should be lying down.  Rest is the most important thing you need right now.  You can torture yourself on the training field once you've recovered and the healer decides it's safe."

          Mekanek scowled at her, "With all due respect, I don't think I should be wasting time doing nothing when another attack could occur at any moment."

          The queen matched his scowl with one of her own, "You'll help no one by killing yourself and that's exactly what you'll end up doing if you don't allow yourself time to heal.  I don't want to have to force you but I will if you push it."

          A sardonic snort escaped him.  "How do you plan on doing that?  I'm not exactly a little boy you can play nurse to anymore."

          "Perhaps not, but I believe Randor is perfectly capable of subduing you."

          "Now that's just playing dirty."

          During this rather amusing argument, Adam and Teela looked from first one then to the other of the two adults in surprise.  They had never really heard Mekanek speak in any manner other than highly respectful to the queen.  Now they sounded like brother and sister, much like Teela and Adam themselves were often accused of acting.  It seemed so odd to them, never knowing this thing about two people they loved.

          The blonde prince suddenly perked up, spying something unexpected when Mekanek raked a hand through his ebon locks.  "You're Elven?" He asked of the tall warrior.

          Clear violet eyes in the sun regarded him now in something akin to amusement and a smirk played at his lips.  "If you want to call me that, yes.  I'm Tylwyth Teg."

          "The Fair Family, Elves of Light," he said in awe and smiled.  "Wow."

          A short laugh escaped from Mekanek then while Marlena arched an eyebrow at her son.  Teela merely snorted in amusement.

          "I thought you knew that," she asked.

          "No, I thought he was human," the boy said uncertainly, scratching his tousled head, "I mean, I've never seen you without your helmet on so I wasn't really sure what you looked like." He shrugged then, sheepishly grinning in embarrassment.  He hoped he had not offended the older man, he had always heard the Teg were a very proud people, rivalling even the Avians.

          Mekanek grinned, "That's alright, Adam.  There's probably a lot of people who don't know."

          "Why?" Teela asked suddenly.  "Why do you keep your helmet on all the time?"

          Tilting his head to one side, he thought for some time before answering, "It is less… troubling for the people if they didn't know.  We're always on alert of some sort anyway so it's also best to remain prepared, besides, you could ask the same of Stratos."

          "Stratos is hardly ever here," Marlena pointed out, taking a seat in a chair near the bed, "he has his own kingdom to look after.  And he has been known to wander around without his helmet.  The last time you had yours off was when you were sick and had no say in the matter."

          He leaned back slightly, a smirk lighting his features, "'Bout like now?"  A puzzled expression crossed his features then.  "Where is my helmet by the way?  And my armour?"

          The two teenagers passed a look of trepidation between them before Adam took it upon himself to answer.  "We don't know.  You didn't have them on when we found you."

          "We think they might have been taken," Teela added.

          The older man cocked an eyebrow at them.  "Trophies, huh?" A sardonic snort escaped his lips, "Glad to know I'm good for something―"

          "That's not funny, Wulfric," the queen fairly growled.

          It was an odd sound to hear from his mother.  In fact, the prince was fairly certain he had never heard her growl before, at least not at anyone beside himself.  And where did this 'Wulfric' thing fit in?  Was that truly Mekanek's name? 

          "Wasn't meant to be," the spy answered, nonplussed by the queen's tone.  She narrowed her eyes at him while he merely frowned at her.  "Seems pretty near the truth actually.  I wasn't able to help the others one damn bit in the battle because Tri-Klops and Beast Man decided to use me as a punching bag and there was nothing I could do about it," he finished with a grumble, crossing his strong arms over his bandaged chest which caused him to wince. 

          Adam watched the man who was as much an uncle to him as his real ones or any of the Defenders and realized he had seldom seen Mekanek so angry with himself.  There was no reason for him to feel this way, the Defenders were all giving their best and still had been frighteningly near ultimate defeat.  It still scared him to think of how close they had been to death that sennight ago. 

          "None of us were doing that great," Teela said in an effort to make him feel better.  "Until He-Man showed up, we were all little more than walking bulls-eyes for those creeps…" She paused then, biting her lower lip like she always did when she was overly upset or nervous, before she blurted, "You scared the hell out of us.  I was terrified you weren't going to come back."

          The words seemed to make the spy uncomfortable but a widening of his eyes was the biggest response he gave.  They surprised the prince, he had heard nothing of her being scared when just a few years ago she would have crept into his room at night and told him everything.  Yet, she had said nothing.  Had things changed so much between them from what they once were?  Is this what growing up does?  Or is it the war's fault for their separation?

          No, he knew what had happened.  He-Man happened, the Sorceress happened.  Damn her for handing him that accursed sword and ruining his life, his relationships with family and friends.  He longed so greatly that things could return to what once was.  He wanted his life back.

          He had some idea how Mekanek must feel right now, though the Defender was angry and depressed for entirely different reasons.  It still hurt that Teela did not talk at all to him for whatever reason she had, but he could not hold it against her after everything he was keeping from her. 

          Again he silently cursed the Sorceress, throwing in Man-At-Arms for good measure.

This story will get to the meat of the plot (which seems to be getting lost) within the next few chapters so I pray thee stay and read on when next a chapter appears.  I will try to get it out with a bit more haste.


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